


Look, Don't Touch

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Orcrist - Freeform, an older fic i'm posting here, don't know if i should pick this back up and continue it, sword obsession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 08:08:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16036400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: The reader has an odd fascination with swords, but little does she know that Orcrist is not so fearsome as its wielder.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are appreciated.

You ran your fingers admiringly down the groove of Fili’s knife; well one of the many he carried with him and he so graciously let you borrow. You loved blades; you had crafted them for most of your life and when you were not in the forge, you often had one in your hand. However, on your trek, you had only thought to bring your sword and two knives and not even your best ones.

A silver glare sparked against the setting sun pulling your attention from the borrowed knife. Thorin’s great sword shone despite the dimming light and your eyes were no doubt wide as saucers as you looked longingly to it. Ever since he had found it in the caves, you had been eager to have a twirl with it or at least run your fingertips down its beautiful edges. You wondered if it were peculiar that you had the urge to lick it. Only a little.

You grinned at the odd thought, knowing any other person would think you mad should you speak it aloud. Your eyes were drawn from the sheen of Orcrist by another glimmer; Thorin’s suspicious blue eyes sparkled across at you. He no doubt had noticed your longing eyes many a time, not to mention he had denied your request for a go at his new blade just as often. He frowned at you in warning and you suppressed a mischievous smile, looking back to the knife in your hands.

You bit your cheek guiltily pondering how you could convince him to let you see the sword, you only wanted to touch it. Maybe swing it around or chop something in half, but nothing too extreme. You could see yourself dancing with it, slicing through the flesh of orcs as it whistled through the air and blood.

You giggled quietly at your daydreams and heard a just as subtle growl in response, looking up to find Thorin’s eyes still narrowed at you. He could probably see your very thoughts written across your face. You pulled back your smile and stood, handing the knife without looking to Fili beside you, and almost dropped it before he got a hold on it. You sauntered over to Thorin, trying to seem inconspicuous, though he had never stopped watching you.

“Hello, Thorin,” You preened innocently as you sat beside him on the log, “I was wondering–”

“My answer has not changed,” His eyes had grouchily followed your movement as you settled in next to him, “Nor will it.”

“Please,” You pleaded, holding your hands together desperately as if praying to every god you had ever heard of, “I will be so careful, I only want to see it.”

“You can see it,” He pointed to it lackadaisically, “It is silver and long and you’ve not doubt got a good enough look by now.”

“You know what I mean,” You edged forward on the log, “I just want to hold it. I’ve held enough swords in my life that I can promise you, there are no safer hands you could ever place it in.”

“No,” He grumbled as he lowered his brow, “You’ve got your own sword, play with that.”

“That boring old thing,” You reached out to touch Orcrist with a single finger but Thorin quickly slapped your hand down before you made contact, “Ow! Come on, one time and I’ll never ask again.”

“Hmm,” He seemed to think of it as he squinted across the fire, “No. Ask me tomorrow and I’ll say the same. Ask the day after that and I cannot promise you will not find yourself at its point.”

“I dare you,” You uttered without censor, knowing you should not be challenging a king, “My sword is plain but even that blade would not scare me.”

“Perhaps not the blade,” The corners of his mouth turned subtly upwards, “But its wielder should.”

“Hmmp,” You sighed, daring another reach before your hand was pushed away once more, “Fine. I’ll be off then….”

“Good night,” Thorin said to your back as you stood from the log, his tone taunting, “And remember, I sleep with my sword, so don’t you even think of trying.”

“Sure, like that’s going to stop me,” You grumbled to yourself, before calling a good night over you shoulder; you would have a better chance at it if he was sleeping.

* * *

You stepped carefully between the errant twigs and sleeping dwarves as you inched near the sleeping king. For once he was not on watch and you had bribed Bombur with your nightly piece of bread so that he did not call out your ploy. Thus, you quietly closed in on the snoring dwarf with a menacing grin, plotting how you would wrest Orcrist from his slumbering grasp.

You stared down at Thorin a moment before you knelt carefully, holding out your hands as if framing him, figuring out your plan. Slowly you touched the hilt of the sword which was only inches from his nose, one of his hands rested atop the blade. You wiggled it slightly and paused with baited breath awaiting his reaction, but grinned again when you received none. You pulled the sword lightly towards his head, only an inch as you stopped once more and still caused no disturbance in his sleep.

You continued to edge the sword from under his hand, his snores urging you on as you were reassured that he still slumbered. You could not help but smirk proudly with every centimeter and withheld a giggle as you thought of how angry he would be if he knew. You were near the point when at last his snores died and your heart seemed to stop.

His eyes opened suddenly and you saw the realization behind the blue orbs as his brows formed a furious v. Before he could think to tighten his grip on his beloved sword, you swept the last of it from under his hand and stood waveringly in your panic. You turned on your heel and held the blade aloft as you broke into a clumsy, off-balance sprint, stepping on a few dwarves as you made your escape.

You dodged behind one of the tall rocks which lined the clearing and another, hearing his footsteps close behind you. You wove in between the rocks until you met the tree line, chopping through vagrant branches as you tried to create distance between you. You could hear Thorin’s grumblings and heavy footfalls and you finally released the chuckle which had been brewing within.

You spotted the small entrance of a cave tucked into the side of the gray cliffs, hoping it was too thin for Thorin to follow. Furthermore, it was barely noticeable and if you were fortunate he would not see it at all. You crossed quickly to the dark arch and rushed inside, keeping Orcrist from clattering on the close walls. You ducked behind a thick stalactite towards the back of the cave and breathed heavily, shielding the blade beneath your cloak.

“[Y/N]?” Thorin’s voice echoed from the entrance, “You would be wise to tell me if you are within or I cannot promise I will not turn that blade upon you when I wrench it from your greedy hands.”

You remained silent as his voice sent a shiver up your spine, wondering if he would not slew you even if you gave yourself up. You clasped your lips together as another laugh threatened; despite his anger, it was still rather amusing.

“Last chance,” He warned, his voice much closer than before as his feet kicked aside stones, “You do realize that thieving from your king is treason, do you not?”

“Thieving?” Your voice rattled along the cavernous ceiling, “No, borrowing.”

“Come out, [Y/N],” You heard him stop not feet from your hiding place, “Now.”

“Hmm,” You frowned and inhaled the last of your strength, stepping out from behind the rocky formation, “I–”

“Do not even think of giving me an apology,” He reached for the sword hilt sticking out from your cloak but you stepped back, “And return what is mine.”

“To be fair, you found it in a cave,” You edged back away from his hand, “And I  _found_ it on the ground.”

“In my hand,” He corrected.

“Under your hand,” You let loose another smile, “I will give it back, do not worry yourself. But I figured since I’ve got it already, I could test it out.”

“If you return it to me in the next ten seconds, I will not take it from you,” He threatened, though it was less sinister than the same warnings you had heard him utter at others.

“Oh, you’ll take it,” You said teasingly, revealing it from beneath your cloak, “How ever would you do that? I see no other blade on your person.”

“Any further, [Y/N],” He pleaded, “And you will be no less than a traitor.”

“For what? Holding a sword?” You grinned as you looked closer at the flawless blade, “A wonderful blade, but surely not worth treason.”

You ran your finger down its length longingly before turning the sword in your hand and offering the hilt to Thorin. Your grin falling into a frown as you reluctantly let him take it from you.

“I only wanted to hold it,” You explained meekly as he lowered it to his side, “You know, I would let you see mine if you asked. I could make you a better one even.”

“Better?” He raised his brow, “This is elvish steel.”

“You needn’t fancy metal to make a reliable blade,” You replied with a shrug, “Any dwarf knows that.”

“Yes, they do,” He agreed, his tone lightening, “Here, as long as you do not cut yourself.”

He held out Orcrist and you were sure he had killed you and you were dreaming in the afterlife or at least this had been a dream all along. You looked to his eyes unsure and he nodded his approval. You slowly took the blade back from him with a small smile and let out an admiring sigh as you felt the smooth steel.

“May I take it outside, to see it in the light?” You did not want to press your luck but the cave was too dark to see more than its blurred outline.

“'I suppose it would not hurt,” He stepped back and motioned for you to go first, “But do not think of running again.”

“Not at all,” You said cheerily, “I would not have run if you had only shared in the first place.”

“Do not push it,” He warned as he followed you into the moon light.

“Beautiful,” You marveled as you held it up to the silver glow, “Not a single tarnish or line. It is a flawless as silk, you see?”

“You truly love blades,” He mused as you felt him watching your dopey admiration.

“Of course, I spent my life forging them,” You looked closer to the hilt, “And handling them. It would be tragic to spend one’s whole life doing something they despised,” You twirled the sword in your hand carefully, “It is why you’ve gone on this quest, is it not? You did not want to spend the rest of your life without your passion? Without the Mountain?” You looked at your distorted reflection along the steel, “Much the same as myself; I had swords and knives, all sort of arms, but what is all that without a home?”

“I suppose you’re right,” He said wistfully, “I should not have been so selfish, it is only a sword and any with blood of the Mountain deserves my generosity.”

“No, I should not have been so sneaky,” You held the handle out to him once more, “Sometimes, I get an idea in my head and there is no way of vanquishing it. Often it results in me doing something foolish, like stealing a sword.”

“Or getting trapped in a hole?” He chuckled as he took Orcrist, alluding to the deep crevice you had got yourself stranded in on a bet from his nephews.

“How did you–” You blushed, he had not been there for that episode, “I would have gotten myself out.”

“I saw you throw yourself into the hole, actually,” He explained with a grin, “I had come back to make sure my nephews had not fallen in themselves only to find you leaping straight in.”

“I made ten silver off that hole,” You said defensively, “Would have been twenty if your nephews had not pulled me out. I told them I could do it. Just a little longer.”

“Sure,” He seemed more amused than you had ever seen him, “Though I think you’d still be down there if it weren’t for those two.”

“Hmmm,” You grumbled resentfully, though you grinned, “Perhaps you are right…Yet I wonder, if you saw the occurrence, how come you did not pull me out? I am a member of your company and you are suppose to look out for me.”

“I would have, eventually,” His smile grew, “My nephews are not as patient as myself.”

“Eventually?” You mimicked.

“A day or two,” He chuckled and you could tell he was teasing, “When you realized you should not be leaping into random crevices.”

“You think you can teach me lessons so easily?” You narrowed your eyes, “That is where you are wrong, the only thing I learn from my mistakes is how to do them right the second time.”

You snatched the forgotten sword from his hand before he could react and swiveled away from him as you kept yourself from slicing your hand. You got a steady grip on the handle and made for the trees once more with another giggle, Thorin’s footsteps stomping across the twigs quickly behind you.

“Oh, you will learn this time, [Y/N],” Thorin shouted as you continued to sprint ahead, “When you fall upon that sword or I push you onto it!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a broken record, but comments feed my soul.

You sat near the fire, sewing the large tear in your cloak under the dimming light of the evening sky, squinting as you tried to keep your stitches tight. However, you had never been talented at such a task and you knew your work left much to be desired. You cursed yourself once more for slicing your cloak thus, having done so as you had run away with Thorin’s sword. You could only be thankful that you had not cut yourself in your foolishness.

Thus, here you sat, grumbling at your horrid stitches as the flames crackled before you and you could feel Thorin’s glare radiating as hot from the other side. You looked up at him as the string slipped from the needle once more and you huffed at the idea of re-threading it. Despite your certainty that Thorin was annoyed with you more than ever before, his sneer did not seem so frightening as usual. In fact, you would not exactly describe the expression across his features as such.

You furrowed your brow as you dampened the fraying end of the thread in your mouth and tried to loop it through the small eye of the bone needle. You missed several time and sighed once more; you could barely focus under the dwarf’s stare and the graying sky did not help your task. Besides, you knew that even if Thorin was not so furious as you would expect, he was no doubt planning something. The dwarf was as stubborn as any, if not more, and you knew he could hold a grudge to ends of Middle Earth.

You pushed the tip of the string through the small hole at last and would have let out a small cheer if it had not immediately slipped back out. You frowned with a guttural growl and dropped your tools into the dirt, stomping them with your filthy boot. You let your cloak fall limp across your knees and hung your head in defeat, uttering some very rare khuzdul profanities. You kept your foot heavy on the ground, hoping the needle would just disappear and the tear in your cloak would mend itself.

As you sat, contemplating your miserable existence, a light tug at your cloak across your lap and the sudden rush of dirt from your side made you raise your head. Thorin was sitting beside you with a rather amused look on his face as he held the edge of your cloak, examining the half-sewn rip.

“Hmm,” He suppressed a chuckle as you let him pull the fabric from your knees, “I hope you forge better than you sew.”

“Trust me, I do,” You grumbled, biting your cheek with irritation.

“Here,” He held out his thick hand, “Give me the needle.”

“Uh,” You raised your foot slowly and dug through the dirt from the half-buried bone instrument, “Sure.”

“I should not be so nice,” He said as he swiftly threaded the needle without issue, “But seeing as you are so unskilled and short of temper, I could not continue to watch you struggle so.”

“I do not know if I should thank you or curse you,” You leaned your head in your hand, your elbow on your knee.

“You will be thanking me when you haven’t a draft flowing through your cloak,” He pulled out the loose stitches you had pathetically woven through and set about his own precise tight sewing, “I cannot have a member of my company freezing to death. There will be cold ahead and when we reach Erebor, the winter will not be far behind us.”

“Hmm,” You sighed as you watched him work, “Thank you, then.”

“Don’t sound so enthused,” He replied dryly and you saw his mouth twitch into a half-smile, “But you know, I have not forgotten your little charade with my blade.”

“I haven’t any idea what you mean,” You hid your own grin, “Perhaps you were dreaming.”

“Nice try,” He reached the end of the long tear and tied it off, “There is one thing you can do to make me forget….and possibly forgive your crime.”

“Oh?” You were sure he was about to give you both watches for the next week, “Which is?”

“Well, seeing as you have had quite the close look at my sword, I would think it more than fair that I see yours,” He smiled, telling you there was more to his plan; he did not smile often, “Do not worry, it shall be returned. I am not so low as to run off with anothers weapon.”

“Huh,” You scoffed at his not so subtle dig as he handed you your mended cloak and needle, “I suppose that is not an unfair bargain.”

“Or I can think of something worse,” He offered teasingly, “And I promise not to turn it on you.”

“Great,” You rolled your eyes as you grabbed behind you for the sword near your pack, “Have as close a look as you like.”

He took it from you with curious eyes as he held it up to the yellow flames, the fire dancing across the tinted silver. You could see the reflection of the blades glare in his blue eyes as he examined it silently, running one of his fingers across the engraved hilt.

“It is red,” He commented after a moment, “Or is that blood? I though you cleaned it every night.”

“I do,” You explained proudly, “I forged it like that, with the scarlet tint. It was my signature, you see. I would work colour into my blades.”

“Interesting,” He flipped it swiftly in his hands, digging the tip into the dirt as he stood, “It has a nice weight to it.”

“I forged it so it would,” You assured as you rose, watching him balance it in his grip, “A good smith does not allow a sword out of their shop until it is perfect.”

“Mmm, true enough,” He smirked at the blade as he twirled it so that the handle was pointing at you, “It is an impressive blade.”

“Thank you, I–” You began to reach out for the proffered sword but he pulled it back as his grin widened, “Thorin…”

“Oh, do not fret,” He crinkled his eyes bemusedly, “You will get it back, but you still owe me.”

“For what?” You looked to him dumbfounded.

“Well, you offered to let me see your sword before without condition,” He mused as he eyed your sword boastfully, “So, by my count, you’ve yet to earn my forgiveness.”

“Oh, Mahal, you sneaky–” You began with resent.

“Careful,” He warned lightly as he brought the sword point to your nose, “One simple task and you’ve your sword and atonement.”

“What is this simple task?” You asked, dreading his answer.

“Bring me Dwalin’s ax and we will make a fair trade,” His smile was broader than you had ever seen it, “Or you will be left to your knives; they are no doubt as nicely crafted but a sword is always useful.”

“You are not serious?” You hissed, “He will chop my head off with that ax before I get within feet of it.”

“If you can steal from a king, you can steal from Dwalin,” He chuckled at the look on your face, “Take as long as you like….or as long as you can make it without this.”

He turned with your sword still in his hand and you stood with your mouth agape and brows furrowed with consternation. You had a very hard decision to make; your sword or your head.

* * *

You had never spent so long without a sword in your hand and it was starting to show as your patience turned to ashes. Thorin had done his best to taunt you, flashing your sword around at the front of the train of dwarves, laughing loudly as he mused at the colour to Dwalin. You scrunched your face in irritation and it had stayed that way for most of the day.

Now you sat watch, upon your own insistence and watched the slumbering Company as they snored. You had thought you would be of little use on watch without a sword but Thorin had actually seemed keen at the idea, though he did not offer you your blade to protect yourself and the rest of them. In fact, you were sure he knew exactly why you had asked for the tiresome duty; tonight was the night. You wanted—no,  _needed_  your sword back.

It was easy enough to determine whether the bald-dwarf was asleep as his snoring was close to shaking the ground. You were sure, even from across the camp, that you would be deaf by sunrise if he continued on so. It made you wonder how the rest had managed to lull themselves to sleep, though you were thankful to have something to keep you awake. It might even be the very thing to make your plan succeed, not that you had thought it out completely.

You slowly rose from your vigil at the fire, sheathing the long knife you had been gripping as your only solace and quietly began to step over the sleeping bodies. Kili nearly grabbed your ankle in his sleep and Ori squeaked enough to make your heart catch in your throat. Finally, you reached the roaring Dwalin and you stared down at him, much like you had done to Thorin only nights before. Somehow he was more intimidating than the king and you withheld a tremble of anxiety.

You took a deep breath and nearly choked on it as you heard a quiet but clear rumble from your right. You looked over to find Thorin’s shoulders shaking atop his bedroll as he watched you with a tight-lipped smirk. He had likely been waiting for you to approach the angry bear all night and his anticipation nearly made you march back to your post. Yet, spite overtook you and you braced yourself for what you had to do; you would not let him win this one.

You stretched your fingers as you twiddled them nervously and knelt down to the sleeping dwarf. His ax was right in front of him, though he had a much tighter hold on it than Thorin had. You bit your lip and another stifled chuckle could be heard from the watching king. You put your fingers lightly on the ax handle and wiggled it slightly; its guardian merely snored louder.

You ran your fingers up the handle and cautiously brushed them across the back of Dwalin’s hand, still nothing but snoring. You pressed more firmly and he remained in his deep slumber, though his rumbles was starting to make you dizzy. You took his index finger between yours, slowly lifting it back from the ax, eliciting as little reaction as before and you thanked Mahal that he was such a heavy sleeper.

You did the same with his other fingers, your heart beating faster with every one and you leaned back on your heels. You inhaled deeply once more as you prepared to sprint in the other direction as quickly as you could. You pushed yourself to your feet and bent over, your hands hovering over the ax handle as you tried to talk yourself into taking it.

Your fingers wrapped around it as you found the last of your resolve and you were immediately knocked off your feet as the flat of the head caught you in the nose. You withheld a shriek of agony as you fell back into the dirt and brought your hands to your face, a stream of blood already leaking from your nostrils. You whimpered as you heard the sharper edge of the ax heading for you and rolled out o its way right before it implanted into the soil beside you.

“Dwalin, please no!” You pleaded as the ax was pulled from the dirt, “It’s only me, [Y/N]!”

“[Y/N]?” His voice hung in the air along with his axe, “What in Mahal are you doing messing around with my ax?”

“Nothing,” You lied as you sat up painfully, blood flowing into your hand like a river, “I wasn't—I mean….”

“Forgive her, Dwalin,” Thorin appeared above you and you would have growled if you were not drowning in your own blood, “She has a peculiar fascination with weapons…especially those that are not hers.”

“Hmmm,” The bald-dwarf grunted as he narrowed his eyes down at you, “Try it again, lass, and it’ll be the other side of my ax with meets with your head.”

“Sorry,” You grumbled, shooting Thorin a resentful glare, “Won’t happen again.”

“Back to sleep, Dwalin,” Thorin ordered, “There’s a long ways to go tomorrow.”

“Aye, as long as that fiend don’t wake me again, I should be well-rested,” He gave you one last dangerous sneer before lowering himself back onto his bedroll.

“Keep the sword,” You garbled through your broken nose, “It’s not worth it.”

“Come on,” He held out his hand, “Get up.”

You wiped one of your hands on your tunic and took his, letting him pull you from the dirt as another spurt of blood wept through your fingers. You nearly felt like vomiting as you could feel some of the metallic liquid sliding back down your throat. You followed him over to the fire as you bent and blew a clot into the dirt gracelessly and returned to your former perch. He sat beside you, though he no longer wore his amused grin.

“Are you alright?” He lowered his brows as he looked at you in the firelight, “That looked like it hurt.”

“Oh, did it?” Your voice was rather nasally, “It did not feel so.”

“[Y/N],” He exhaled, “I did not mean for that to happen. I truly did not think you would get so far…or that you would even attempt such folly.”

“But….” You swallowed back more blood, withholding a wretch, “My sword.”

“I was going to give it back in the morning,” He explained with a small frown, “Truly, I only wanted to tease you for a time.”

“Well, I think I have learned my lesson,” You sniffed and choked painfully.

“Let me see,” He shifted closer, his hand removing yours from your face as the other gently nudged your chin up, “Well, it is undoubtedly broken.”

“Hmm, you sound a true medic,” You tried to laugh but it was too painful.

“It is nearly on the side of your face,” He reached to his belt and retrieved a handkerchief, lightly wiping the blood from your face, “A tragedy if you ask me.”

“I would agree,” You frowned, “It feels quite tragic.”

“I did not m–” He stopped himself as he shook his head as if catching himself, “I mean, it will have to be put back in place.”

“Yes, I figured as much,” You sighed and it had your nose throbbing, “I’ve had it done before and I will say I do not long for it.”

“Mmm,” He furrowed his brow as his eyes searched your face, “Shall I?”

“Get it done and over with,” You thinned your lips, “Before I lose my nerve.”

“Alright, on three,” He brought his hands in front of your nose, placing them softly on the skin, “One, two–” *CRACK*

He pushed your nose straight and you yelped, trying to smack his hands away as you snapped your head back. You would have grabbed your nose but you knew it would do nothing but cause further pain and so you looked to Thorin in pain and annoyance.

“You said three,” You grumbled.

“It is better when you’re not expecting it,” A hint of his grin returned, “It’s almost straight; I’d daresay more than before.”

“Huh,” You scoffed as you turned to the fire with a grimace, “Thanks.”

“It seems I am having to fix everything for you,” He elbowed you and you could see him smile from the corner of your eyes, “First your cloak and then your nose.”

“Hmmm,” You could barely draw breath through your nostrils and knew that your nose would be swollen for a time to come, “I would say the nose was your fault to begin with.”

“Perhaps,” He admitted begrudgingly, “But if you had not stolen my sword–”

“I borrow your sword once—or maybe twice, and suddenly I deserve to have my face bashed in,” You grumbled dryly, “I mean, if you had simply let me see the bloody thing in the first place.”

“Oh no, do not turn this on me,” He warned with a chuckle, “Mahal, you are stubborn.”

“Me? Stubborn?” You turned to him with an offended furrow, “That is rich coming from you.”

“And undisciplined,” He grinned at you with a crooked brow, “Would that you ever stilled that restless mouth of yours.”

“Ah,” You scoffed, your nose throbbing painfully, “Would that you gave me less reason to work it so often.”

“Ha,” He laughed as he slapped his knee lightly, “You simply cannot help yourself.”

“Mahal,” You scrunched your nose and immediately regretted it as it sent a jolt through you, “Well then, I think I should be back to my watch now, before I say something I truly cannot take back.”

“No, go lay down, I’ll finish it for you,” He patted your shoulder softly, “Least I can do after such an incident.”

“So you admit it then?” You stood, crossing your arms, “That it was your fault.”

“No,” He answered with a shrug, “I merely take pity on injured creatures.”

“ _Pity_?” You drawled back at him wryly with a frown, “ _Creature_?”

“Good night, [Y/N],” He smiled at you mockingly, curtailing your annoyed response, “I’ll return your sword on the morrow, when you are not so…irritable.”

“That would be wise for you,” You narrowed your eyes, “Night.”

You turned on your heel and found your bedroll clasped to your pack, unwrapping it swiftly before falling onto it. You could hear the same muffled laughter that had rumbled through Dwalin’s snores and you lifted your head to look back at the fire. Thorin had his face buried in his hands as he chuckled into them, his shoulders trembling with mirth. You shook your head and dropped it back down with yawn; if your pain was so amusing to the king, it would be a long journey indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think :) I'm open to any and all feedback.

A sudden cacophony woke you from your brief but heavy slumber; you nearly reached for your still absent sword before you realized it was merely laughter. You rubbed your eyes drowsily, painfully grazing your nose and causing another pang to shoot through your head. Your nostrils throbbed as you tried to breath through the damaged cartilage and you withheld a whimper as another round of chuckles came and you focused on the deep voice eliciting such amusement.

“So, just as she is about to seize the might dwarf’s ax,” Thorin’s rich tone nearly echoed across the clearing, “He wakes, as he does whenever anyone touches his dear weapon. Well, he dealt her quite the blow and you should have heard the noise which came from her,” The king sounded more delighted then he should, “Dwalin struck her so hard, I swear she flew through the air.”

You sat up as another rumble of laughter came from the Company gathered round their king and you sneered at the scene. You could not tell who was guffawing louder; Thorin or Dwalin. You pushed yourself from the ground with a grunt and stomped over to the crowd, pushing aside Bofur and Nori and stopping with arms crossed in front of Thorin.

“Have you told them it was your fault, yet? Or shall I do so?” You shot dangerous looks to the other dwarves before turning back to the king, “I doubt it.”

“My fault,” He shook his head with a grin, “Any fool would know better than to try to steal away Dwalin’s ax.”

“Then that would make you a fool of a king,” You shot back as you frowned.

“A king, nonetheless,” His voice gained its usual stern edge as he stood, squaring his shoulders, “You would be wise to remember that.”

A tense silence befell the rest of the Company as you glared back at Thorin, though you could still see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You huffed as you stepped back and graced him with mocking bow, making sure to sweep your arm in the most exaggerated manner.

“My king,” You sneered with venom as you straightened and turned on your heel.

The same dark quiet blanketed your audience as you walked away and knelt at your bedroll, bundling it up and attaching it to your pack. You could feel the nervous eyes watching your every move but if you let them bother you, it would surely be the end of you. The thick silence was at last broken by another booming laugh and you looked over your shoulder to Thorin as he chuckled deeply.

“Alright,” He finally quit his irritating laughing, “The rest of you lot start packing, we’ve a ways to go.”

You looked back to your pack and shook your head, wondering why he had not tried to take your head off or at least berated you. It seemed that no matter how angry or flippant your were towards him, he merely found it amusing. Perhaps you should not have stolen his sword and goaded him so; he was surely still trying to make you pay for that.

“[Y/N],” Thorin’s all too familiar voice interrupted your brooding packing, “As promised.”

“What?” You stood and found him holding out your sword hilt with a grin, “Oh, thank you.”

You reached out cautiously, sure he was about to pull it back as he had before but you clasped your hand tightly around the pommel and he released it without issue. You smiled unthinkingly as you felt the weight of your old companion in your hand and looked at the red-tinted silver with appreciation.

“You will no doubt need it,” He commented as you sheathed it at your waist, “See that you use it on the right foe.”

“I would never,” You replied, though you were tempted to give him a few scratches as he continued to grin at you with arrogance.

You sighed as you turned back to grab your things, hearing the twigs snap as he walked away after a slight pause. You had been sure he was about to deliver some new taunt but were relieved that he decided to leave it at that. You touched your sore nose, making sure it was still in place and gripped the hilt of your sword, readying yourself not only for the day ahead but the rest of the journey.

“I had thought your nose big before,” Fili joked as he walked beside you and you clutched your sword tighter, fighting the urge to draw it; the Durins sure knew how to irk you.

“Surely,” Kili agreed with a troublesome grin, “And that is coming from him. I mean, he has quite the beak himself.”

“Quiet, Ki,” Fili smacked his brother lightly on the shoulder.

“Yes, quiet,” You grumbled as you looked to the ominously gray sky, “Both of you.”

“You are truly fortunate to only have an enlarged nose,” Kili chuckled, “Let alone to still have your head.”

“What ever possessed you to attempt such thievery?” Fili teased as he nudged you, “You are truly mad to have even looked at Dwalin’s ax.”

“As I have said before, many a time,” You elbowed him back, “It was not my idea.”

“Hmm, yes, so you have,” Kili shook his head, “We know our uncle is king but there are times you should not obey him so readily.”

“Truly,” Fili pushed back his thick blonde hair, “When I was boy, he once tricked me into eating a worm.”

“That was not so much trickery as it was your own cluelessness,” Kili laughed heartily.

“Ki,” He smacked his brother again, “And what about that time he got you stuck up that tree because he told you there were snakes in the ground.”

“Well, then I suppose we are all fools,” Kili grumbled with embarrassment.

“Or rather your uncle is a horse’s arse,” You suppressed a glare at your liege though you could not see exactly where he was along the train; instead you bit your cheek in irritation.

“I have been called worse,” Thorin pushed in between you and Fili, nearly frightening you.

“Mahal,” You groaned without censor, “Where have you come from?”

“Surely your nose is not so swollen you cannot see past it?” He taunted, “I have been behind the three of you fools for the last hour.”

“Hmmm,” You scrunched your face, your nose ringing with pain at your grimace, “I stand by my remarks.”

“A dwarrow of conviction,” His comment hung precariously between an insult and a compliment, “What else could a king ask for in such a quest?”

“A bed,” Grumbled Kili as he pushed back his shoulder against an ache.

“Food,” Fili added and you were sure you heard his stomach growl.

“The bed is a hard ask,” Thorin ceded, “But I suppose Bombur can stir us up something nice…once we stop.”

“And how long will that be, Thorin?” Fili moaned, “It is sure to rain soon and judging by this sky, it will be a proper storm.”

“Eventually,” Thorin answered vaguely, the light of determination returning to his features, “If it should rain, pull your hood up.”

“That is true wisdom,” You scoffed at the look on Fili’s face, “Not sure he could have figured that out himself.”

“Eh!” Fili made to smack your shoulder as he did to Kili but found his hand knocked aside by Thorin

“None of that,” Thorin reprimanded, “If the three of you keep this up, you will slew each other by nightfall. Now, save your strength, you may need it for our true enemies.”

Thorin gave the three of you one last look, a mixture of remonstrance and amusement before he stepped ahead, walking beside Dwalin. Kili and Fili gave each other a look of shared annoyance and you narrowed your eyes at the pair of dwarves before you. Thorin quietly chattered to Dwalin and had the stern old dwarf chuckling once more, his broad shoulders shaking with mirth below his great ax. You were certain it was another of the king’s japes about your little run-in the night before and you rolled your eyes; you would never live down that folly.

Your cloak was soaked through and you were shivering under its damp weight as you followed the rest of the Company into the small cave. As many were in a similar state; Bofur’s hat sagged heavily atop his head and even Thorin seemed to slump beneath the downpour. The interior of the cavern was little better; a musty smell was well-worn into the stone walls and the ground was covered in slimy moss which thickened the further you got.

Oin and Gloin set about making a fire with the driest kindle they were able to gather on the way and you let your pack fall to the ground carelessly. You pulled off your cloak which clung to your damp clothes beneath, your hair plastered against your head. You spread your cloak across a round stone, hoping it would dry out before the morning as the rest went about similar work.

You pulled your sword belt off and set it beside the rest of your belongings; even it seemed to weigh more from the rain. You spread your bedroll across the mossy cave floor; it was soaked on the outside but the inside was slightly less damp; it would have to do. You hoped it would dry out before you would have to use it that night.

As the fire sparked weakly in the center of the cave, you stretched your arms out and rubbed your aching legs. You bent and reached into your pack, finding your whetting stone before you unsheathed your trusty sword. The task would keep your mind distracted and you would not have to think about how miserable you were from the rain or the ever-present pain in your nose.

You sat down in front of the fire, half of the Company already circled close in an attempt to relieve themselves of the lingering chill of the downpour. You propped your sword against your knee and began to run the stone slowly and precisely down the silver. The subtle sound of your work calmed your frustrations and kept your hectic thoughts at bay.

You could feel your nose begin to run and cursed quietly as you unthinkingly wiped away the trickle, jolting your nose once more. You sniffed painfully and continued to focus on your sword; you had thought this day could not get any worse and yet here you were, on the precipice of catching cold. You clenched your jaw as a sneeze threatened to break through but you were able to fight it into submission.

“You look like you need warming up,” Thorin dropped down next to you, “I have just the thing,” He offered you one of the steaming bowls in his hands, “No doubt you also need a good meal.”

“Hmm,” You set your sword aside and took the bowl with a weary squint, “Thank you…”

“Are you still mad at me then?” He grinned as though he really did not care if you were.

“I am not mad,” You grumbled, it was not worth it to hold onto such a grudge; beside he had helped you with your nose, “I am wet and tired and cold. You are the least of it.”

“I suspect that is the nearest I will get to praise from you,” He mused as he ate a spoonful of the lumpy stew, “Your nose does look much better than earlier; if not a little redder.”

“It will go away,” You gulped down the warm broth, “It is only the weather.”

“I suppose I should have listened to my nephew,” He grinned as he swallowed, “About the rain.”

A sudden clap of thunder outside the cave made you jump, nearly spilling your stew down your front. You growled at the noise as you calmed yourself and sniffed painfully once more as you exhaled a deep sigh.

“At least you got us in before that started,” A flash of lighting at the mouth of the cave sent a brief white light across the caverns, “And that.”

“Aye, it will be gone by the morning,” He commented with a reassuring smile though you failed to muster a response, “And perhaps you will be little less miserable.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a line. Give me some comments please and thank you :)

You lay across your bedroll, the rocky cave floor hard against your stiff joints and the dampness of the air sinking into your bones. You groaned as you opened your eyes and rubbed them heavily, trying to clear the sleep from your head. The thought of sitting up seemed a tremendous battle and so you yawned into your hand and shifted stiffly atop your thin bedroll.

You daintily touched your nose, sending a small shock through your head, though it was not so agonizing as the day before. You lowered your hand, content that your face was not so swollen as it had been and the lessened pain reassuring you that Thorin had reset your nose in the right place. You inhaled deeply and pushed your still damp cloak from atop you, urging yourself away from the ground before you lost the motivation to rise.

You sifted through your pack with drowsy eyes and other members of the Company began to stir, eliciting their own pained moans. The fire was stoked back to a flame as Bombur began to stir his porridge atop it and you were eager to get your portion of the bland oats. You grabbed your bowl blindly from your belongings and joined the small line waiting for their share. You stood behind Bilbo who was yawning louder than yourself and you patted his back in mutual misery.

“Rough night?” You covered your mouth as another yawn arose.

“Cold,” He grumbled as the pale slop was ladled into his bowl, “Wet.”

“Aye,” Your own bowl received a spoonful, “To say the least.”

“Though it is nice that Thorin is not so focused on my flaws,” He frowned as you led him to a place around the fire.

“Whatever he says to you, ignore it,” You advised as you slumped into the dirt, balancing your bowl, “It is simple enough.”

“Easy enough for you to say,” Bilbo sat beside you, “He does not loathe you as he does me.”

“Sure he does,” You gulped your bowlful lazily, “I just have the spine for it.”

“I do not know the dwarf well,” Bilbo began as he swallowed his own mouthful, “But I know whatever it is that he feels towards you is far from loathing.”

“He may call you a thief but I am the one who stole his sword,” You swished around the thick mixture in your bowl, “Yours is merely a title, I have more than proven my own worth.”

“Ha,” Bilbo for once sounded less than dismayed, “You listen too much to his words, you need to hear his meaning.”

“I have no time for your cryptic riddles, Bilbo,” You warned, downing the last of your porridge in a messy swig, “Be plain or be quiet.”

“The most I can say is that you need to listen better,” He advised with furrowed brows, “And maybe look at something other than your blade.”

“Right, well,” You rose with a sigh, “Enjoy the rest of your porridge and I will go look at my blade.”

“[Y/N],” He pleaded apologetically, “I did not mean it as an insult. I am only trying to help you.”

“Bilbo, you need to stop feeling so sorry for yourself,” You put your hands on your hips as you looked down at him, “Many here have as much reason to dwell in such a pitiful state but it will not help anything, so pull yourself together,” You turned on your heel before looking back over your shoulder, “And when it comes to Thorin, you come to me the next time he gives you trouble.”

“Hmmm,” You heard the anxiety in his grumble, “Thank you.”

You crossed back to your things, disappointed that another day was beginning in such a miserable manner. You lifted your pack and your breath caught as your sheathed sword was revealed from under the bundle. You cautiously lifted it with a crooked brow, eyeing the bright flowers which had been twined around the case with thin vines. Looking back around the camp, you wondered if it were some trick. As the only female in the company, it would be expected that such things would happen; as a dwarrow especially, you had grown use to such.

You tried to untie the woven vines and yet you could not pry it away from the leather sheath, trying to tear it did just as little. You pulled your knife from your waist as you knelt over your cased blade and attempted futilely to shove your blade beneath one of the binds. Thus, you sawed at it awkwardly until it began to fray and a small length fell away from the sheath. The rest of it remained in place, just as tight as before and you realized it would take an hour at least to hack away all of it.

You tossed it back into the dirt with a frustrated grunt and looked suspiciously over your shoulder, finding no hint of guilt among the Company. Kili and Fili were obvious suspects as they had a well-known penchant for such pranks. It could even be Ori, the squeaky little creature who was still childish enough to think such a trick comical. Nori and Bofur were just as likely as they had both gone out of their way to tease you mercilessly whenever they had the chance. Any member of the Company could be the perpetrator for it seemed that neither age nor experience granted dwarves maturity.

* * *

Despite being an elven city, Rivendell was rather welcoming and like most of the Company you were thankful for a night indoors. After the close brush with orcs, you could not have been more relieved to be behind closed doors, though the beds were no small benefit in themselves. The food left a lot to be desired but the cheer of the dwarves around you distracted from the less than filling spread of greens.

You sat at the end of the table, hoping that you would be left to grimace at your lettuce and brood in your own right. In the days since you had found your sheath decorated with flowers, you had done your best to search out the trickster who had propagated such a childish plot. At first, you had been sure it was Fili who had gone out of his way to tease you about your darkly bruised nose and your new sheath weaving. Yet, all suspicion had flown away when you had awoken to another surprise; this one assured you that the intentions behind them were not so mischievous. 

The lattice of flowers had not been a prank at all, it had been a gift, much like the necklace of carved stones you had found atop your pack that morning. The beads were far from crudely carved but you could tell they had only been crafted recently and you tried to think of any you had seen gathering or fiddling with stones. You could not be sure of who was leaving the present though; Kili had a thing for tossing rocks at Fili and others, while Ori collected them for his slingshot (though those ones were much larger). Even so, it could be any member of the Company who was trying none to subtly to court you; the thought nearly made you frown deeper as you longed to be treated like any other on the quest.

You reached into the pocket of your tunic and felt the stone chain which you had tucked in there, feeling the khuzdul symbols along the smooth faces. Despite your annoyance at the inappropriate timing of such a gesture, you were flattered that whoever it was had taken the time out to make you such an intricate gift. You had been courted before and it had not turned into much; most dwarves were so excited to have met a dwarrow that they never considered the reality of the situation. You were not always the most amiable person and you tended to be much too independent for many suitors.

You sighed as you pulled your hand out of your pocket and frowned down at the plate in front of you; you were not very hungry. You gulped down the last of your wine and brushed the hair away from your face before standing from the bench; none of the others seemed to notice your movement and you were grateful for it.

You slunk away with your head down as the chatter hummed behind you and you slipped into the nearest corridor. You were not sure where you were going, hopefully outside so you could get some fresh air. You finally found a door which opened into a hedged courtyard where marble statues lined the mosaic paths and seemed to shine against the silver moonlight.

You found your way to one of the stone benches and slumped onto the hard seat, hanging your head in your hands as you tried to sort through your thoughts. It did not need to be said that the journey ahead would be harrowing but already you felt exhausted. You had been prepared for orcs and elves and trolls but you had not been so for everything else.

You had thought traveling with your king and his Company would be a noble quest and yet you felt little more than an outsider. At times, you even thought Bilbo belonged more than yourself. One of those dwarves may have been attempting to court you, but you were not out to find a husband, you intended to win a mountain. The nearer you got to Erebor, the further from home you felt and unlike the rest, you had yet to find your place within the Company.

“I know the food wasn’t much,” The deep voice shook you from your brooding, “But you will need your strength.”

“I ate enough,” You argued, raising your head but keeping your shoulder slumped, “Though I think another drink may be in order.”

“Aye, I cannot say the thought of elves would not spur me to drink,” Thorin gave a small grin as he sat beside you, “Or is it the pain?”

“My nose is fine,” You assured him, “It likely looks worse than it is.”

“It  _has_  returned to its former size,” You could feel him examining your profile as you stared at the stars, “Though the colour has only deepened.”

“Why did you follow me, Thorin?” You tried not to sound miserable, “I hope you haven’t another futile errand to send me on.”

“No, I just–” He let out a deep breath, “I saw you leave and thought you looked rather upset.”

“Tired,” You corrected him, “And slightly miserable, I know.”

“I cannot blame you for that,” His eyes finally left you as he followed your gaze to the moon, “It had been quite an…eventful journey.”

“That is one way of phrasing it,” You rubbed your chin, running your hand wearily to the back of your sore neck, “The sooner we reach the Mountain, the better.”

A thick silence fell upon the two of you as you closed your eyes and hung your head once more, resting your elbow on your legs as you gripped your head in your hands. You twined your fingers into your thick hair as you suppressed a groan. You felt the brush of Thorin’s leg against yours as he shifted beside you and your head shot up as you recalled that you were not alone.

“So…” The word hung heavy in the air before he continued, “I do not think I’ve ever seen a sheath so flowery.”

He touched one of the crumpled pink carnations still attached to your sheath and you pursed your lips, withholding a snide response.

“It cannot be your own work though,” He pulled at the tight vines with a crooked grin, “Such a poor sewer is likely no better a weaver.”

“Hmmm, I wish I could say you were wrong,” You chewed your lip as you could feel the weight of the necklace in your tunic, “It will eventually wilt and die. I am not much for flowers.”

“Oh?” His tone was empty as he kept his eyes on your adorned sheath and you searched his unreadable expression, “No, you wouldn’t be. Only steel or silver for the lady, I would fathom.”

“Lady?” You repeated with disdain, “I cannot merely be a member of the Company, I have to be the lady, don’t I?”

“What?” He finally met your eyes with his own, “I did not–”

“I know you meant nothing,” You stood and looked down at him, “But I did not pledge my sword to you as a lady, I swore it to you as a dwarf who would fight for the Mountain.”

“I know–” He began but you turned sharply and began to march away, causing his voice to die.

“You do know,” You called back, gripping your sword hilt, “But you would never treat me as such. You or the rest of this Company of stubborn dwarves.”


End file.
